Such a Simple Question
by Biker Babe21
Summary: Caleb can't sleep so instead he ruminates on Yasha's question of who he's in love with. Rated for canon character death and mentions of murder. Critical Role. Campaign 2. Caleb Widogast/Jester Lavorre. Widojest.


**Such a Simple Question**

**AN****: This was meant to go in a different direction, but as always it lead me somewhere else as I was writing this. Whether that ended up being better than my original idea or not I'm not sure, but I am happy with this. Especially considering that it was just a two hour drabble.**

"Do you love her?" It was such a simple question, but one that kept him awake almost all night. Who was Yasha talking about? Was it Astrid? It **was** a well-known fact that they had been a couple at one time. Could it be Nott? She **had** just kissed him the other day, and they **had** always been pretty close and affectionate with each other. Or was it Jester? He **had** been showing her affection and his fondness for her more openly lately. But who did she mean?

How many times had Astrid's name been brought up while Yasha had been present? He had to wrack his brain for this information. It had been a long time since they had last seen her, and a lot had happened in the interim. He knew that Nott had mentioned her name a few times in Rexxentrum, but he could only recall two times when the barbarian had been present. And neither of those times had it been in any romantic fashion. She hadn't been present when he received her letter, nor had she been around to hear him drunkenly call Jester by her name. She also hadn't been there when he tried explaining the dangers of reaching out to his old friends from school. But she had heard him mention her briefly during his talk about his past deeds, and he believed he and Jester had mentioned her one other time before she was taken by Obann.

So, it couldn't be her. His ex-girlfriend hadn't really been mentioned in any romantic fashion around her. And it would've been an odd thing for her to bring up when he had mentioned the rest of the Nein during their discussion.

But what about Nott? Yasha definitely saw the pair kiss, but he thought everyone had seen that as what it really was, a platonic kiss between friends. Nott had just been nervous and had been giving him a goodbye kiss. That's how he had seen it at least, and his goblin friend hadn't given him any reason to believe it to be anything but a kiss between two very close friends. But it didn't matter anyways. Nott was his friend, his partner in crime, and very much like a little sister to him. That hadn't changed since the moment they had decided to travel together, and it certainly wasn't about to change anytime soon.

Besides, Nott had a husband and son waiting for her safe return to Nicodranas, and as much of a horrible person as he already was, there was no way in hell that he would ever break the sanctity of someone else's marriage or family. Family was, **is**, how often did he have to remind himself of that fact, very important to him. Despite everything he'd done, despite murdering his one and only family, despite not deserving the family of strange folk who'd adopted him into their queer ranks, family still meant a lot to him.

What he wouldn't give to have his own family back? His mother and father who he brutally robbed of their breaths. No, he wouldn't, couldn't, do that to another family. Never again. He wouldn't be the cause of robbing another family of their togetherness.

But did Yasha know that? Did Yasha believe his relationship to Nott to be something more than just a very bitter close friendship? He wasn't sure. The barbarian was hard to read sometimes, and she hadn't been around enough for him to really gauge her emotions and thoughts yet. Surely, she could've guessed, though, that their closeness was purely platonic? Perhaps. She certainly wasn't ignorant, but Caleb wasn't sure if she saw something that perhaps he did not.

So that only left Jester. Jester, the little blue tiefling who constantly pulled pranks. Jester, the cleric who had teased him several times about the state of his cleanliness. Jester, the ray of sunshine who's smile could force even the most miserable of folks' lips to turn upwards.

He could admit that he was fond of the little blue tiefling. He could even admit that he might have a crush on her. But did he love her? He wasn't quite sure himself. He was even less sure as to whether or not Yasha had seen his longing glances, or his lingering stares, or his fond smiles towards the Nicodranian. Surely, he hadn't been that obvious? Or had he? It was becoming a tangled mess of a web in his mind that was slowly driving him back to the brink of madness.

But did he love her? It always came back to that. Perhaps at one time, he could say that. Back when he was Bren and hadn't become a murderer. It was too late. He had murdered them and countless others all in the name of his gods-forsaken empire. If only he hadn't been so naïve. If only he hadn't been so driven and ambitious. If only he hadn't have gone to the academy. If he hadn't have listened to all of Trent's sweet-talking and honey-coated words of encouragement. If. So many ifs. And many more than even that.

There was no doubt that he was a horrible person who'd done so many horrible deeds. Irredeemable deeds. And someone as lost and as miserable as him and as horrible and cruel as he could never hope, could, **should** never even so much as dream of having something or someone as pure as Jester. He could only barely allow himself to dream of experiencing love again. A thing that he was slowly bringing himself to terms with in regards to the rest of the Nein.

So how could he ever dare to dream of a life with Jester? Not even a life, just a split second to bask in his **love**, no, his **care** for her. It wasn't achievable no matter how hard he tried or wished or dreamed. He was far too broken and too miserable and too everything for her. But that didn't stop him from caring.

And oh boy did he ever care. He cared about her so much. It hurt how much he cared about her and for her. She was beautiful, in every term of the word, both inside and out. She was the light of his life. She lit up every one of his dark corners, even the ones he tried to hide. Hell, she even made him smile and laugh. Things he hadn't been sure he'd ever be able to do ever again. He was so sure that he would be forever miserable, but somehow this strange oddball had startled chuckles, and forced smiles, and strangled laughter out of him. He still wasn't sure how she did that, and he doubted he would ever know.

But do you love her? It was hard to tell. Sure, he found her beautiful, and funny, and disarmingly charming, but so did a lot of people. She had also made it abundantly clear that she was interested in Fjord. 'But she hasn't been flirting with him as often as she was,' his mind teased as his heart jumped. And yes, he could admit that he was fond of her and that she was perhaps a budding crush. He wasn't so inexperienced that he couldn't at least remember what **that** felt like.

It started with a light fluttering feeling deep inside whenever they would look at you or turn your way. It would then change to a fire of passion when you touched. Before it turned to a deep desire to be constantly by their side. Then came the unyielding need to protect them from anything or anyone who would dare harm them.

It's too late. That's what he had told Yasha. But was it really? Could he really allow himself to love again? Would it be right to hand his broken, miserable, murderous self to another and ask to be loved in return? He didn't think so, but….

He couldn't deny it. There were certainly feelings there. Deep-seated ones for his blue friend. His good friend. And she **was** a good friend…Such a good friend…He couldn't ruin that by confessing. No, he shouldn't.

But **what** would he be confessing? Certainly not his love.…That she was a good friend who'd helped him climb out of the hole he'd dug himself? Well, he'd already told her that, at least in part. Love, though?

Could he love her? How would she react? Did she share his feelings? Did it even matter? What if she rejected him?

Maybe he **would** confess. Tell her how fond he was of her. She would surely reject him anyways, and that was precisely what he deserved. She couldn't **possibly** reciprocate his love, his feelings, for her. But if she did? Well, he couldn't imagine the consequences. He would have to make up some sort of lie and say it was a joke, or a test, or something. But that would only upset her, which he **definitely** didn't want to be responsible for. His ray of sunshine couldn't be allowed to be tarnished by his overwhelming abyss of depression.

He only wanted her to be happy. She deserved it after all. Not like him. He didn't deserve it. Not one second of it.

But he was happy. **She** made him happy. Somehow, in some way, Jester made him happy. She made it possible to hope that maybe someday things would be better. That maybe someday he'd be deserving of her, but for now, no, it was too late. Too late to hope for better things. Too late to hope that he would ever be worthy to bask in her light. Too late for him.

The thought saddened him more than it should. He was a murderer and every other horrible thing possible. He didn't deserve nice things or happiness or anything good or even love itself.

But…There was always a but. But Jester, she had shown a way, hadn't she? A way forward. Together. With clasped hands.

And thinking about their interlocked fingers only hitched his breath and quickened his heart. He wasn't sure what to make of it at first, but…that's what Astrid did to him so many years before, hadn't she? It was so long ago, but he could still remember their first kiss, stolen while their teacher had his back turned. And he could remember the first time their hands brushed against one another, a far more innocent passing of books in the halls after some harsh bullies had knocked them from his grasp. He had frozen at their touch then, just like whenever Jester touched him now.

But just because she had that same sort of power over him didn't mean that he was in love…**Did it? **He did, after all, call her by his ex's name during one drunken waltz, but he had been drunk so that shouldn't count. Should it? Had he confused the pair? That night was still fuzzy in his mind, a fact he blamed on the excessive amount of alcohol he'd had that night. He promised himself he'd never find himself that way again lest he find himself in a more compromising situation. He'd thankfully never had another problem since, at least not one quite like that.

But now he had another dilemma. Was he **actually** developing feelings for his friend? His good friend, Jester? He **did** have feelings for her, he could admit that. But **love**? **Was it love?**

The heartfelt smiles, the constant need to care for her, the way his mind would stop working when she touched him, the lingering stares, the way his heart beat out of his chest…Oh gods above, no it couldn't be true! Could it? No, it wasn't possible. He couldn't allow this…But his heart knew better; it always did.

**Love…He was in love**…He couldn't be in love…But he was…He had fallen for **her**. Fallen for her hard. How could it have taken him so long to realize this? Was he denying his feelings to himself just to cause himself more pain? Or was this **because** of the pain that he was in denial? It was hard to tell.

He couldn't let Yasha know. Or any of the others for that matter. He had to be less obvious lest they all start to figure it out. And he didn't think he could bear it if they did. If **she **did…Not yet at least, not until he was ready. Would he ever **be **ready, though? He wasn't sure, but a part of him wanted it to be true.

So, did he love her? He wasn't sure he'd ever tell her so. At least not anytime soon. But yes. 'Yes,' his heart sang, 'yes, I love that silly blue tiefling girl, and I will 'til the end of time itself.' And on that thought, sleep finally found him.


End file.
